Who's Afraid of Gregory House?
by allthingsdecent
Summary: Post Bombshells, House crashes Wilson's dinner party and Cuddy is there...with a DATE! (Oh, the drama)


**Hello, Huddy Nation. Been a while! My muse seems to be on an extended vacation (maybe it's European?), but I did manage to crank out this silly little story until it returns. A few thoughts: Obviously borrowing the title from Edward Albee's famous play is nothing short of blasphemy, especially since I don't even follow that play's structure. But I thought there was just enough similarity for me to get away with the allusion. (Or maybe I just liked the title.) Also, if you like this story, thank Oc7ober, because her tireless ****nagging ****coaxing led to it. Also, Dominika isn't a thing in this fic. Sometimes I just don't feel like cleaning up TPTB's mess. Anyway, here's hoping that this fic gets me going again. Hope it at least makes you smile. xo, atd**

The minute House walked into Wilson's office, Wilson slammed his laptop shut.

"You don't need to hide your porn viewing habits from me," House said. "I already know that you're a member of NAOBLA—the National Oncologist-Boy Love Associat—"

"It's not porn. And why must you take all jokes to their most offensive extreme?"

"It's a gift," House said. He sunk into the chair across from Wilson's desk and squinted at him.

"If it's not porn, what are you hiding from me?"

"Nothing. Private, um, patient files."

"Oh yes, a doctor caught red handed looking at patient files! How mortifying for you."

And before Wilson could protest, House popped up and lifted Wilson's screen.

"A recipe for Chicken Marbella from the Silver Palate Cookbook?"

Wilson squirmed a bit.

House grinned at him.

"You dog! You have a date."

"Yes," Wilson said, relieved. "I have a date."

Now House folded his arms.

"No, you don't."

"You just said that—"

"And you agreed way too quickly. Besides, why would you hide a date from me? You'd be strutting around the hospital like a proud rooster—one who temporarily forgot the high price of divorce lawyers. It's not a date. . .it's a dinner party! A dinner party that I'm _not_ invited to!"

"You hate dinner parties," Wilson said wearily.

"True," House said. "But the general protocol is: You ask me to come and I laugh in your face. Not: You hide your recipe for Chicken Marbella on your laptop—sounds delicious by the way. What are you really hiding?"

"There just isn't enough room at the table."

House finally figured it out.

"Cuddy is coming, isn't she?"

Wilson sighed.

"I thought it would be awkward for the two of you—"

"I am capable of being in the same room as Cuddy. We broke up four months ago. We're both mature adults, you know."

Wilson gave a loud snort.

"So let me prove it and invite me."

"I can't," Wilson said, making a cut sign with his hands to indicate that the conversation was over. "It's going to be a nice, civil dinner party, with friends and _no_ drama."

"Sounds deathly dull."

"I like deathly dull."

"What should I bring?"

"House, I'm serious. Not only is Cuddy coming…a woman that I'm possibly interested in is coming."

"What woman?"

"Her name is Heidi Stack. She owns a men's clothing boutique. You don't know her."

"Stack. Promising last name. . ."

"Truth in advertising," Wilson couldn't resist saying, with a coy grin.

"Good for you. But I still don't see how my presence is going to get in the way of you and the buxom Heidi making sweet love tonight. Or, in your case, making sweet first base tonight."

"I just want a nice boring evening. Is that too much to ask for?"

"Yes."

"House you hate dinner parties. Please stay away from mine."

"Killjoy," House said. He grabbed a handful of lollypops out of Wilson's jar and left.

#####

Was it a surprise to anyone when Gregory House showed up that night, wearing a jacket and tie, no less—as if there was some point in standing on ceremony once you were crashing a party—and wielding a bottle of wine?

"Am I late?" he said to Wilson with a grin, shoving the bottle into his chest.

Wilson rolled his eyes.

"No, you're just on time."

House scanned the room. A middle aged couple that he didn't recognize; a bleached blonde with big boobs and a plunging neckline who had to be the divine Ms. Stack; and, over at the bar, Lisa Cuddy and a tall, broad-shouldered man in a blue cashmere sweater with slightly fussed-over light brown hair.

House scowled.

"Who's the guy with Cuddy?" he asked.

Wilson winced a bit.

"Actually, that's the real reason I didn't want you to come. That's Cuddy's, um, date."

"Date?" House said, horrified. "Like, what? A setup? You're fixing Cuddy up on dates now?"

"No. She asked if she could bring him. They've been seeing each other for a few weeks."

House went pale. He continued to stare at Cuddy and her new boyfriend.

"You knew it was going to happen eventually, House," Wilson said, gently. (It was his lot in life that he found himself consoling the man who had just crashed his party.)

"I just didn't. . . I mean. . ." House scratched his beard, then said weakly: "Has he met the kid?"

"House, I have no idea. But I strongly doubt it. They just started seeing each other."

House nodded, but said nothing.

"It's not too late to go home!" Wilson offered gamely. "She hasn't even noticed you."

"Are you kidding?" House said, barging past Wilson and into the apartment. "Now I'm definitely staying."

#####

Cuddy heard the commotion at the door and finally saw him.

Her mouth dropped open.

"Wilson!" she said. "What the hell is he doing here?"

"He crashed. He saw the Chicken Marbella recipe on my laptop and he. . ."

"I love Chicken Marbella," Cuddy's date said, cheerfully.

"Lovely to see you, too, Cuddy," House said. "Introduce me to the new boytoy."

Cuddy gave a testy sigh.

"Bruce Whitford, this is Dr. Gregory House. He's not invited!"

Bruce looked at House knowingly.

"So you're the famous Dr. House?" he said.

"I prefer infamous, but yes. Do you want an autograph?"

"Nice to see that you live up to your reputation, Doctor," Bruce said.

"What reputation is that, _Bruce_?"

"I work in a law firm that specializes in medical malpractice. We practically have a whole wing devoted to you. I think you paid for my Mercedes."

House broke into a sarcastic smile.

"So let me get this straight," he said, breaking into a TV announcer voice: "She's a dean of medicine. He's a malpractice lawyer. Together, they'll make a case for curing loneliness!"

"Something like that," Bruce said, with a boastful grin.

"It'll never work," House said.

"Excuse me, Bruce. I just need a moment of Dr. House's time," Cuddy said, and she grabbed House's arm and dragged him into the hallway.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" she hissed at him, her hands on her hips.

"Attending a dinner party, same as you."

"Big difference: I was invited."

"Big difference: I came _alone_."

"I'm allowed to go on dates, House."

"Oh absolutely, I'd expect no less from the Prostitute of Princeton Plainsboro."

"First of all, it's been four months House. Did you expect me to remain celibate for life? Second of all, fuck you. Third of all, please try not to be a total asshole tonight. Are you even capable of that?"

House peered at her.

"So you really like this guy…or what?" he said, somewhat pathetically.

"Yes, he's a very nice man."

"Is he good in the sack? Does he make you purr the way I used to?"

She grabbed his arm tightly. He looked down at it.

"House, I'm serious. Behave yourself or I'm going home with Bruce tonight and I'll let you know tomorrow how he was in the sack."

"So you haven't done the deed yet?"

"None of your business."

"I'll take that as a no."

"House. Can you not act like a 10-year-old for once in your life?"

"I know you are but what am I?" House said.

Cuddy shook her head in annoyance and marched back to the party.

#####

Dinner was served.

Wilson sat the head of the table. Cuddy sat next to Bruce. The middle-aged couple—turns out, they lived in the building and the husband was on the condo committee with Wilson—sat together. House found himself squeezed in next to Heidi Stack (the table really only comfortably sat five).

"How's the chicken?" Wilson said, to the table.

"Very tender," Condo Committee guy said.

"I'll need to borrow the recipe!" Mrs. Condo Committee Guy agreed.

"So you guys both work with James?" Heidi said to House and Cuddy.

"Yup. Just one big happy family!" House said.

"Sounds like a fun place to work," Heidi said.

"Never a dull moment," Wilson said. He started to say something to Heidi, but House interrupted, turning to Bruce:  
"So tell me Brucie, what's it like working for an industry that has single-handedly led to skyrocketing insurance costs, the bankruptcy of hardworking doctors, and the inaccessibility of healthcare for the poor?"

Cuddy shot him a lethal look.

"What? Just making small talk," he said with a shrug.

"I don't know House. What's it like being the reason malpractice lawyers exist?"

"It's true. All that life-saving I do should definitely not go unpunished."

"We're just making sure that doctors follow the guidelines set up by the American Medical Association. Or are you an anarchist, too?"

"I'm no anarchist. Just ask Dr. Cuddy. She'll tell you I obey orders very well."

"So you two used to date?" Heidi said to House, giggling a bit, and gesturing toward Cuddy. (She'd already had two glasses of wine.) "Awkward!"

"Think of me as Nelson Mandela," House said, with a grin. "I was in prison, but now I am free!"

"If you're Nelson Mandela, I'm the Dalai Llama," Cuddy muttered.

"If the Dalai Llama had a giant ass."

"Watch it!" Bruce said.

"Oh believe me, I did more than just watch it."

Cuddy glared at him again.

"I just remembered a really important _clinical matter_ I need to discuss privately with Dr. House," she said, standing abruptly and marching back to the hallway.

"BRB," House said. He balled up his napkin, tossed it on the table and followed her.

"Threatening me with clinic duty if I don't behave?" House said, once they were alone. "So typical."

"Are you seriously going to act this way all night?" Cuddy barked back.

They could hear their raised voices from the table, although they couldn't quite make out what was being said.

"More wine?" Wilson said with a weak smile.

"Yes please!" the table answered.

"I hadn't quite planned it out that far," House replied. "But it's looking promising."

"You swore to me you'd behave like an adult!"

"Actually, I made no such promise."

"Insulting my date. Making lewd comments about me. Hijacking the conversation. It's not funny anymore House. It's not cute. It's just annoying."

"Maybe I find Bruce Whitford's entire existence annoying."

"Then here's an idea: Leave."

"_You_ leave!"

"No way. I was invited!"

"I'm not going anywhere."

Cuddy folded her arms.

"Neither am I," she said.

"Then let's go back to the table."

"Fine!" she said.

"Fine!" he said.

Together, they marched back to the table.

All eyes looked at them.

"It wasn't really a hospital matter," House said. "Dr. Cuddy needed some help adjusting her butt pads. Happens all the time. Everything securely back in place now, sweetcheeks?"

"As secure as your enormous ego," Cuddy said, with a fake smile.

House grinned back at her.

Briefly, they were all able to continue eating dinner without incident.

Wilson and the Condo Couple talked about plumbing upgrades and other boring condo things. Bruce talked about the front court of the New Jersey Nets. Wilson tried to flirt with Heidi, but didn't gain much traction. Cuddy and Heidi talked about Alexander Wang's fall collection. Several bottles of wine were opened and downed, except for by Mrs. Condo who confessed that she "got a little loopy" when she drank and stuck to sparkling water with lime instead.

Finally, Heidi turned to House:

"So if you're not seeing Dr. Cuddy anymore does that mean you're single?"

"Single as a slice of American cheese," House said.

"But the question is: Will you be cheesy for long?" she said with a giggle. She lifted his hand. "I do a little palm reading on the side. May I?"

"Oh, by all means," House said.

"Yes, Dr. House is _such_ a fan of the psychic arts," Cuddy said, with a smirk.

"You have beautiful hands, by the way," Heidi said to House, as both Wilson and Cuddy rolled their eyes.

"And I know how to use them," House said, with a wink.

Heidi looked at his palm, although she seemed to be stroking it more than reading it.

"I see a long life ahead of you," she said.

"You sure you're looking at the right line?" House cracked. "Because I have the liver of a man twice my age. And most men twice my age are dead."

"And I see romance in your future," Heidi said. "Your very near future."

"Cool," House said, glancing at Cuddy. "Cause I'm a romantic kinda guy." Then, still eyeing Cuddy, he took Heidi's hand. "May I? he said.

"But of course," she said.

"Very soft," he said approvingly.

"I moisturize," Heidi said proudly.

House traced her palm slowly with his finger.

"You will attend a dinner party and sit next to a tall, charming, devastatingly handsome stranger."

"Wow. It's come true already!" Heidi said. "You're good!"

"You guys _do_ make an adorable couple," Bruce said.

"Would anyone like to read my palm?" Wilson said, sadly.

"I will!" Mrs. Condo said.

"Thanks," Wilson muttered.

Now House and Heidi were doing that thing drunk people do when they're smitten—leaning toward each other, whispering, giggling, eating off each other's plates.

Cuddy watched them with annoyance, until she couldn't take it anymore.

"Is this really appropriate dinner party behavior?" she said.

"I'm sorry," Heidi said. "Who died and made you Dinner Party Czar?"

"Yeah, Cuddy," House echoed. "Who died and made you Dinner Party Czar?"

"Excuse me," Cuddy said.

She got up from the table and marched into the hallway. This time, House didn't even need to be asked. He simply excused himself and followed her.

"I know what you're doing," Cuddy said.

"What am I doing?"

"You're trying to make me jealous."

"Ha!"

"Ha what?"

"You come to this party with a date and I'm trying to make _you _jealous."

"What part of you_ crashed the party_ don't you understand?"

"I just met this Holly woman."

"Heidi," Cuddy corrected.

"I'm not in a relationship with her."

"And I'm not in a relationship with Bruce. This is our fourth date."

"You two seem pretty cozy already."

"And you're practically drooling all over her."

"What do you care who or what I drool over these days?"

"I don't," Cuddy said, defensively.

"Then what are we even talking about?"

Cuddy folded her arms.

"I just. . .I just wish you'd be more discreet about it."

"Why?"

"Because. . .it upsets me."

"Why?"

They stared at each other.

"Because it makes me jealous!" she blurted out. "Is that what you want to hear?"

"Yes."

He took a step toward her.

"Seeing you with Bruce Whitford is driving me crazy," he whispered.

"I know…" she said, looking down.

"I can't take much more of it. I just. . .do you know incredibly sexy you look tonight?"

Cuddy closed her eyes but didn't reply.

"Do you know how badly I want my hands all over you?"

"Tell me," she said—which she knew, deep down, was an invitation for what happened next.

"Let me show you instead," he breathed.

And he pushed her up against the wall and began kissing her. She put up only token resistance and then began to kiss back, her tongue eagerly reacquainting itself with his mouth, as his hands traversed her body possessively. They were both beginning to lose their equilibrium, forgetting that there was a party taking place a mere 25 feet away, when she came to her senses and pushed him off her.

"We can't!" she said.

"Why not," he said, leaning toward her again, planting several soft and sensuous kisses on her mouth.

"Because my date is the next room. And this is a dinner party, not a key party."

House began nibbling on her ear, which he knew always turned her on.

"You forgot to mention: Because we're broken up," he said, his mouth migrating to her throat.

Her knees were beginning to get weak.

"That was implied," she said softly, pushing him away.

"No," he said, moving toward her again. "It wasn't."

"Seriously, House. This can't happen!" she said, firmly. "Let's just get back to the party and try to a have a pleasant rest of the evening."

"I have a better idea," he said. "Let's leave now, together."

"House. No!" Cuddy said. "Here's what's going to happen: I'm going to go to the bathroom and fix my makeup and my hair and you're going to go ride out your, um, _situation_ in Wilson's room and I'll see you back out there for dessert."

"I'd rather have you for dessert," House said glumly.

######

The guests had now assembled in the living room, where Wilson was serving petit fours and champagne.

After exchanging a slightly guilty look, House and Cuddy sat back down next to their respective partners.

"Can I ask you guys something?" Heidi said to them.

"Ask away," House said.

"What's the deal with you two?"

"The deal?" Cuddy said.

"Yeah. You came to the party with Malpractice Marvin over there"—she gestured toward Bruce—"and Dr. House has been hitting on me all night, but you're obviously totally obsessed with each other."

"We're not—" Cuddy started.

"I wouldn't exactly call it—" House said.

"You just hooked up in the hallway, right?"

"No!" House and Cuddy protested, perhaps a bit too vehemently.

"Darlings, you don't need to read palms to know that you two are nuts for each other."

"It's getting late," Condo Couple said, sensing that things were about to get weird.

"Are you sure?" Wilson said. "I have brandy!"

"Maybe next time," Mr. Condo said.

"Thank you for a lovely evening," Mrs. Condo said. "I really do need to get that recipe."

And they hastily left.

"I think I'm going to follow their lead," Heidi said. She turned to House, "You're cute. So call me when you're single. And I mean, really single this time. Not just flirting with me to make your ex jealous." Then she turned to Wilson. "James, it was a wonderful evening. Gay men always throw the most interesting dinner parties."

"What?" Wilson sputtered. "I'm not gay!"

"Aren't you?" Heidi said, genuinely confused.

"No! What gave you that impression?"

"Chicken Marbella," everyone said, in unison.

"Let me at least walk you to your car," Wilson said.

"Absolutely," Heidi said, and she gave him her arm.

Now it was just House, Cuddy, and Bruce.

Bruce looked at Cuddy, then at House.

"So is it true?" he said finally.

"Is what true?" Cuddy said, lamely.

"Did you two just hook up in the hallway?"

"No!" Cuddy said.

"Define hookup," House said.

"What the hell?" Bruce said. "I'm outta here."

"Bruce, wait!" Cuddy said.

"For what?"

"I'll, uh, go with you."

"Why? What's the point? You don't love me. You don't even like me that much. This is our fourth date and you've barely let me kiss you."

"Oh, thank God," House said loudly.

"I can explain. . ." Cuddy said.

"There's nothing to explain. Tonight was very illuminating. You're still hung up on him. And he's still hung up on you. Knock yourselves out. Have a great life."

And he stormed out.

After he left, there was a long, awkward silence. House and Cuddy looked at each other. Then they looked at the coffee table, which was scattered with half eaten petit fours and empty glasses of champagne.

"So. . ." House said.

"So. . ." Cuddy said.

"That was interesting," House said.

"Very interesting," Cuddy agreed.

Another long silence.

"My place?" House said finally.

"I don't see why not," Cuddy shrugged.

THE END 


End file.
